Diplomatic Relations
by Hyperbole Westingate
Summary: Shuuhei Hisagi: cool, responsible, and still recovering from betrayal. Alejandria Castillo: impassive, fiery, and wholly committed to atoning for a past on the bloody streets of Madrid. When Spain come to Japan, more than the international fishing trade is at stake: "'What? The Yakuza' Exasperation colored his voice as he sighed, 'You didn't say anything about the Yakuza.'" SHXOC
1. Una Introduccion

"Allie, esta tiempo despiertar!"

That is my mother. She calls from the bottom of the stairs to the second-floor of our townhouse. But I don't want to wake up; I fell asleep at three o'clock this morning, and now that it is five o'clock, I don't feel like leaving a warm, comfortingly squash-able bed.

"Alejandria, abre los ojos!"

Of course, now I have to move. The imperial quality of my mother's most forbidding command could induce the staunchest of Catholics to sign over their soul to the devil. Not for lack of piety, you see, but out of a healthy fear of _la Tigresa d'Espana, _the Tigress of Spain. Were he ever to sleep-in on a day of papal importance, and were she for some reason ever to be in charge of his movements, the Pope himself would roust himself from his chambers and be ready for breakfast at a speed yet rivaled by any person of his office at the command of my mother: "Wake up and smell the coffee!"

"_Alejandria!" _

Rather than court death, I leap from the futon I have been sleeping in, and promptly sprawl across the lacquered floor of my room. I have yet to adjust to the height of the futons that they use in Japan, such short little things. However, I am used to such violent awakenings and am presently hurtling down the stairs, through the hallway, past the table and stopping breathlessly in front of the coffee-maker. I have always looked strange compared to my family, and today is no exception. My hair is as spiritedly unruly as my mother's, and I have some of her features: a straight nose that is rather long, a full mouth, a proportioned body. I am fortunate to have escaped her temper- that particular gene was passed to my sister, whom is currently draped over the kitchen table waiting for the coffee to kick start her system.

"s' a big day, Allie…" slurs my sister.

I know she is smiling at me through the curtain of her enviously silky hair. I want hair like my father's and my sister's: smooth, wavy, imperturbable. Neither my sister, Coretta, nor my father Marco, have ever had a bad hair day in their lives, lucky dogs. My sister is the colorful one of us children. She likes electric pink, and neon blue, and poison green, and anything else intense. From the very beginning, Coretta was determined to do things her way, and for this reason, the tradition of sending us to a different boarding school every year came into being. My brother Emilio is quiet, studious and patient, and will almost certainly become a diplomat like the rest of the family.

"I made you breakfast!" My mother sets a plate of eggs, bacon and toast in front of me as I stare impatiently at the winking red light on the coffee machine. She smiles and hugs me good morning, like she wasn't about to call down all the powers of death and hell upon my head two seconds ago. Mothers, it seems, are just like that.

"Are you ready to start today? Try to make some friends Allie, don't be so, so... _frio_."

"We'll see."

I am not particularly a morning person, and I don't particularly wish to be here in Japan; but because my mother and father are part of the delegation to parliament, I am the shiny new liaison to the Japanese military establishment. My parents are diplomats of the Spanish crown, and currently, they are working on proposing a treatise to the Japanese parliament concerning international taxes on the fish trade, and other such important squabbles in the Spanish-Japanese business world. My father plays the good cop to my mother's bad cop. She can storm out, threatening war, and he will slip in to say that such an event may be avoidable if only the good lords and ladies were to grant some small demands. They work very well together, and Spanish-Japanese relations are notoriously smooth.

As I munch through the eggs on the plate, I wonder what it will be like to finally work as a full-fledged Soul Reaper. I trained in Spain, but my employment there was delayed by familial ambassadorial duties. I don't mind that part of things, I never got a long with any of my classmates, or any of my teachers, or anyone at all for that matter. It's my fault; really, I'm cold and distant and sarcastic. My sister is the rock-star, my brother is the scholar, and I am the problem child.

I have never been able to get close to anyone outside of my family. I'm not a psychopath, I have the ability to care for other people, but I can't get close to anyone, ever, because I can feel other people's pain. I can see and hear everything that hurts them, if I put the effort in. I can even see what they've done to hurt other people, because that hurts them too, deep down inside where they can't feel it themselves. These feelings, they were white noise to me when I was young, I didn't have to care about it- I could choose not to feel it. But as I grew older it got stronger and stronger, until state dinners reduced me to tears, and I couldn't touch anyone because that made it worse. After that, every night I would dream of howls and shrieks and roars of pain and rage. The only thing that could make it better was music: my sister would sing to me until I fell asleep. I taught myself the violin because I was afraid that I had gone insane. Eventually I couldn't hide it from my parents and they consulted their friends in high places. The diagnosis: zanpakto.

The influence of my subconscious zanpakto was what allowed me to feel others' emotions. The screaming I dreamt of was the howling of hollows, my zanpakto's sworn enemies. Growing up as I did in the world of carefully balanced deceit and trust of diplomacy, my zanpakto was probably trying to help me survive by cluing me into the dark side of those around me; but she went too far as we both got older and stronger. Like a mike held too close to an amp, my brain was overloaded with the feedback from everyone around me. I was placed in what was basically solitary confinement until I had trained long enough to control my zanpakto, I learned her name, Pantera Ilamo, and together, we vowed to stop the screaming that still plagued me from time to time. But even then, I was afraid of caring about people, I was scared to death of being hurt by accident, I was frightened of losing the control I had worked so hard for. So I stopped talking to anyone but my family, or one of maybe three people I trusted. I refused to let other people like me, and I pretended that I didn't care about what happened to them. I shut myself into a world that consisted of my family, my zanpakto, and my ever faithful violin.

And now I'm in Japan, about to dive into a new job filled with new people, and a new city, and so many other new things- and I would leave behind everything but my blade and my best violin… and a couple of cases of books: who really need clothes anyway? I chuckled quietly to myself as I finished my breakfast and reached for the coffee pitcher, as long as I could stay sane, everything would work itself out.


	2. Presentar L'Agregada

I own nothing... except for almost everything Spanish... I try to do my research, but if I get something wrong, shoot me a review. At any time in any part of the story all cultural slurs are a result of ignorance, or written in for boorish characters. I think Spain is great.

* * *

The newly inaugurated Captain Shuuhei Hisagi threw a stack of papers on his desk and swore like a sailor. It had been one heck of a day- one very long, very frustrating day: editors calling in sick right and left, printing machines breaking, emergency missions, tech malfunctions, and, worst of all, a note from Yamamoto dictating that he would be entertaining some fancy liaison from Spain.

"With my luck, it'll be some stuck-up bureaucrat who's never done a day's work in their posh life…" Moans Hisagi to no one in particular, "Why me?"

He grumbles as he starts on the next month's paper budget, "I have enough on my plate without some lousy _liaison_ poking their nose into my squad!"

In truth, the poor captain had an excessively large plate. Since the end of the winter war, the 9th squad had been plagued with problems, mostly connected to the defection of its prior captain. Its PR ratings had dropped, leading to a dwindling of recruits. At the moment, all new officers were conscripts from the academy who weren't wanted, or hadn't decided on anywhere else. Subsequently, mission success had dropped, morale was low, and casualties were high. There was a shortage of anyone highly capable to run the printing operations for the Seireitei Communications because they were all in the field (rescuing newbies) so typo frequency had skyrocketed. It was a perfect storm, and it had hit the Captain hardest of all. He hadn't yet picked a lieutenant and so had spread the work over his 3rd and 4th seats, but mostly he did it all himself.

Captain Hisagi was slowly miring himself in self-pity when there was a knock on the sliding door that led to the office. He assumes it was one of the interns who were nearly always on lunch break, so he just calls out

"Come on in!"

His surprise upon looking up and discovering the Spanish liaison to the Seireitei was immediate and awkward. He can't help but stare. Knee-high leather boots, cream colored pants, and an embroidered jacket over a red button-up shirt encased a lean wiry figure, that he noticed, was still marginally feminine. Her hair was a curly silver-gray mass that was precariously confined to a braid; she had tanned skin, deep espresso eyes, and a full sensual mouth. She was taller than the average Japanese girl, but probably still shorter than him. A slim blade with an elaborate guard hung from a scabbard belted jauntily around her hips.

"Hi…" he chokes out, "You're kind of early."

"I was instructed to arrive at the headquarters of Squad Nine at four in the afternoon." She says carefully, "It's five past, I apologize for my tardiness." She bows in the proper Japanese style and then leans against a spare desk in front of him.

"My name is Alejandria Castillo, I'm afraid we didn't meet at the welcoming function for the delegation."

Hisagi's brain finally clicks into action. "Captain Shuuhei HIsagi, I missed the dinner also, so it's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

Alejandria Castillo smiles faintly, but he can't discern what it means. "Likewise," she takes out a sheaf of paper from her jacket and places it on his desk, "You'll find my file complete. It includes all the pertinent information to my presence in your squad. I would have handed it to a secretary earlier, but I couldn't seem to find any."

Her speech was somehow both formal and direct, with only the barest hint of an accent. Hisagi nods in response, filing away impulse to groan at the extra paperwork for later. "None of the interns are present today, sadly…"

He stands, feeling like he needed to make up for his earlier lapse of decorum, and extends a hand for her to shake.

To his surprise, she waves outstretched appendage away, "That's quite alright, I'm here in Japan: I'll abide by Japanese customs."

He sits back down, thinking hard about the contents of Yamamoto's note.

"Would you like to tour the Squadron immediately or would a later time be adequate?" he chuckles slightly, "I'm rather snowed in, at the moment."

Alejandria casts an eye over the filing cabinets surrounding his desk, and the mounds of paper that inhabited it. "I can see that. I am perfectly able to reschedule. Would you prefer a time later this evening? The sooner we can discuss my role within your establishment the better- I'd like to get to work."

Inside, Hisagi melts with relief. "Yes, this evening is fine, how about seven?"

She considers. "Seven is acceptable." She pauses, momentarily lapsing in her cool, suave demeanor, "I'll see you later, then."

"Yes, good evening, later." Hisagi isn't sure if he should get up and open the door for her, or shake hands or what before she exited the room, but Alejandria solves that conundrum by simply turning heel and leaving.

"Okay, you can leave- that's fine." Hisagi mumbles to himself before sinking again into self-pity. He felt completely unprepared for a Spanish liaison, he'd never been the diplomatic type and it seemed that the ice-cool Spanish officer was well trained in matters way above his pay grade. _With my luck,_ he thinks morosely, _I'll end up causing an international incident_.

Hisagi reaches for the file of papers, he might as well study up before the official tour at seven. He opens the packet, and pulled out her school transcripts from the Spanish equivalent to the academy. He inspects the first page, and whistles: she didn't look a day older than when her school picture was last taken. Rangiku, he knew, would kill for that bragging right. She had good marks in all of her classes but all the section for teachers remarks were all left blank except for one:

"Excellent student, would recommend for any position. Intelligent, focused and persistent, with uncanny observational and tracking skills, doesn't talk much."

Puzzled, Hisagi looks at the rest of her paperwork, it was all dated for 2013, the last date of graduation. With shock, he realizes that the aristocratic Alejandria Castillo was fresh out of the academy. He was contemplating this when the door burst open.

"Hisagi!" Crows Rangiku Matsumoto, "Have you met the Spanish girl yet?" She manhandles a chair into a position across from his desk and slides into it conspiratorially.

"I heard that she's liaisoning with _you…_!"

"Yeah, so?" Hisagi puts the file down, and meets Rangiku's glimmering eyes.

"So… do you think she's cute? What's she like?"

"She's really…" He shrugs, "She's kind of like Captain Kuchiki, you know, really emotionless."

Rangiku wilts, "Really? I was hoping she'd be, like, really Spanish."

"She might be, I don't know what she's like with her friends." Privately, he wonders if she had any friends.

"So anyway, do you or don't you think she's cute?" Rangiku never tired of setting up Hisagi, matchmaking was too much fun.

"Well… I don't…"

She pounces, "You _do_ think she's cute! I knew it!"

Hisagi throws up his hands, "Let's not jump to conclusions okay, she's totally not my type and she's way too young for me anyway."

"You know how old she is?"

He taps the paperwork in front of him, "She graduated from the Spanish Soul Reaper academy last year."

Rangiku's eyes widen, "Whoa! How'd she land a job as some schmancy official?"

"She's probably rich or something."

Matsumoto sighs, "Yeah, and I was thinking she would be fun, too…"

Hisagi commiserates. "Well, I really need to do some more work, so why don't you go chase her down or something? She just left."

The glint was back in the redhead's eyes. "I think I just might."

As Rangiku left his office, the beleaguered captain felt just a mite sorry for the poor girl.


	3. La Diligencia

The Japanese Soul society was both orderly and chaotic. People were streaming everywhere chattering as they walked about. I saw some people sprinting along the roofs, and occasionally people would decelerate from a flash step and crash into something, instigating a small traffic jam and a large swearing battle. I felt hugely out of place, Spanish Soul Reapers wore a different uniform based on their unit or their rank. As a lowly petty officer, I didn't get any patches or medals or what not on my uniform, just the standard. Since I didn't belong to a unit, I picked what had been derived from the cavalry uniform, because I liked the boots. I wondered about whether or not I should find something different, everyone here had such blousy pant-things, and my uniform fit close to my skin. I liked it that way, so the material wouldn't get in the way during fast maneuvers. They all wore sandals and two-toed socks, though I much preferred my boots. I pushed those thoughts out of my mind, and concentrated on finding the headquarters of the First Squad. I had to pick up some files, and complete some paperwork, as well as receive my quarters for my time in Japan. I was paranoid that my visa wouldn't make it through, or that the paperwork had gone wrong somehow and I would have to be deported. I considered the risks, and then began flash-stepping towards my destination. I had much to do, and little time to spend wandering around.

…

I was reclining in the 1st's office, scrawling my signature on things when one of the secretaries tugged on my sleeve and pointed at the clock.

"Miss Castillo, didn't you say you needed to be somewhere by four?"

I looked at the clock: it said 3:50 pm.

"Oh, no!" I exclaimed. Panic pushed adrenaline into my system. What if I was late? I had to meet the captain I was to work with at four, and I didn't want to make a bad first impression. What if he was old and wrinkled like Yamamoto? Or as dedicated to decorum and tradition? I left the papers on the coffee table, stuffed some other papers in my jacket, and ran out of the office; to heck with dignity. The run to the 9th was a helter-skelter mixture of flash-steps, sprinting, and one instance in which I slammed into some bald guy, but I didn't have time to apologize. Finally, out of breath and wind-blown I arrived at the 9th headquarters. It was a tall building that followed in the traditional Japanese style. I straightened my shirt, buttoned my jacket, re-braided my hair and walked towards the flimsy sliding door that was marked "office". I looked around for a secretary, or some sort of underling to hand off the files to, but the office was deserted, excepting the door into the Captain's office. I knocked, quietly, on the wood frame.

"Come on in!" the voice was a man's, and it sounded tired. I slid the door open and stepped in, fixing my best diplomatic mask on my face.

The office had two desks that faced each other; I assumed that one was for the second officer, and one for the captain. Only one desk was occupied, and it was situated at the back of the room, next to several bookcases, and some filing cabinets. The man sitting in it surprised me: he was a punk. Three scars ran down his face, and he had a 69 tattoo on one cheekbone, and more tattoos on his neck and arms. He looked like he belonged on the street, not behind a desk. His eyes were black, along with his spiky hair. We spent a moment taking each other in before he blurted:

"Hi… you're kind of early."

Did he not know the schedule? I had received a memo requiring my presence at four, and then mandating some sort of tour. Was he testing me, as courtiers back home often did?

"I was instructed to arrive at the headquarters of Squad Nine by four in the afternoon," I stated, gauging his reaction. "It's five past, I apologize for my tardiness." Then I saw it, just the tiniest widening of his eyes, so he _had _missed the memo. I bowed, and moved to lean against the empty desk.

"My name is Alejandria Castillo, I'm afraid we didn't meet at the welcoming function for the delegation." Had he gone? I wondered, it didn't look like it. My new captain, it seemed, was out of the loop.

"Captain Shuuhei Hisagi, I missed the dinner also, so it's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

I smiled a little, a lapse I later berated myself for. I felt more confident knowing that I had a small edge over Captain Hisagi, one never knew how events would play out, I might need an edge in the worst case scenario.

I retrieved the files I was supposed to give him, and put them on his desk, "You'll find my file complete. It includes all of the pertinent information to my presence in your squad. I would have handed it to a secretary, but I couldn't seem to find any."

He nodded, but looked unpleased by the advent of more papers on his desk. I couldn't blame him. "None of the interns are present today, sadly…" He stood, proffering a hand for me to shake, but I hurriedly shook my head. There was no way I was going to touch a captain of the Gotei 13 without gloves on: my brain didn't need to explode thanks, speaking of which, I really needed to get some gloves….

"That's quite alright, I'm in Japan: I'll abide by Japanese customs."

He sat back down, and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Would you like to tour the Squadron immediately or would a later time be adequate?" he chuckled, and I was surprised by something in the warm sound. A smile changed his face somehow from being scarred and forbidding into the friendliest face I had yet seen in my new home. "I'm rather snowed in, at the moment."

Rather than continue looking at his face, something that was quickly making me more uncertain than ever, I looked at the filing cabinets around his desk. "I can see that. I am perfectly able to reschedule. Would you prefer a time later this evening? The sooner we can discuss my role with your establishment the better- I'd like to get to work."

I dared to look at his face again, this time he didn't look so nice and it made me feel surer of myself.

"Yes, this evening is fine, how about seven?"

I quickly reviewed my schedule. I still had to sign some things and then find the apartment that I was supposed to be issued.

"Seven is acceptable." Then I paused, tongue-tied, and quickly muttered, "I'll see you later, then," Before I took one last look at my new boss, and left the room.

I was walking back to the 1st when I was suddenly accosted by a well-endowed redhead. She swept me up in an enormous bear-hug, a maneuver that inundated me with a sudden and intense knowledge of Ms. Rangiku Matsumoto. While I was reeling from a mixture of devious excitement and a loneliness I could tell she tried to ignore, she began beaming and chattering at me.

"Oh, hello! I'm Rangiku, the 5th Squad lieutenant; you must be the Spanish liaison."

I can't bear the huggy types, literally, information overload. Sometimes when the plastic ambassadresses of plastic ambassadors insist on kissing and hugging me and exclaiming about my hair, I want to scream "TMI! TMI! I don't need to know about your affair with the gardener!" but that would cause an international incident…

"Oh, yes, I remember you from the dinner…" I attempted to recover myself, but she called me on it.

"Really, 'cause I skipped that…" Rangiku giggled, "It was a girls' night out, y'know?"

A girls' night out… no, I didn't know, I don't leave the house much. I found myself just sort of looking at Rangiku, I'm uncertain as to what expressions I make when such lapses in conversation occur; mostly I just try to not move my face in general.

She looked rather nonplussed. "So… what's your name?"

"Alejandria, Alejandria Castillo, it's nice to meet you."

Rangiku worked over my name for a second, "Ale-handria Cast-iy-o… That's so exotic, I love it!"

It actually made me feel kind of good, for some reason. "Thank you, your name is also quite exotic."

"Really? I haven't really thought of it that way…" Rangiku smiled warmly at me, "Anyway, I just wanted to welcome you to the Japanese Soul Society, and if you ever want someone to show you around town, I'd love to!"

"I…" How do I respond to friendliness? No one's been friendly to me in years- everyone in Spain thinks I'm completely bonkers. "Thank you, I'd love to see the city sometime."

"Awesome! How about this weekend?"

"I…" Dios Bendito, that was quick, I've been socializing with diplomats too much. Doesn't Rangiku know that we're supposed to talk about nothing, and then proceed to talking about the weather, and then possibly we'll discuss dates in the next month and maybe agree on a Tuesday but maybe not because we're all so afraid that someone might feel offended? Yeesh, civilians, they're all so _practical_…

"Sure, how about Saturday?" I'm an idiot, such an idiot. I don't have friends, people don't like me. How can we get along when I have to keep almost everything about me a secret? How can she trust me when I know all her secrets and she can't even guess mine?

Rangiku flashed me a thumbs-up, "Awesome, I'll see you then!"

"Yes, I'll see you then." We left each other and I continued my way towards safety.

I made it back to the 1st's HQ despite losing my way once I left ninth. As I walked along I admired the orderliness of the Japanese soul society. The little time I spent in the Spanish establishment had been a labyrinth of terracotta buildings and tiny alleyways. Unlike Yamamoto's soul reapers, the _sociedad_ _des almas_ of my home had been backed by the Crown rather than establishing itself, but lacked central guidance, so the compound had been "confiscated" from an old trade district with a bunch of warehouses, perfect for barracks. Unfortunately, it meant that the whole thing had never even been mapped, and was a warren of back passageways and even a tunnel system built by smugglers. I liked the wide paths and gridded layout of the Seireitei, I'd only been here for a day and I hadn't gotten lost, well, I did suffer some misdirection but that's perfectly understandable given the circumstances, totally understandable…

I reinstalled myself behind a desk and finished various applications. Like the application for housing, which was promptly approved- perks of having political clout- and attempting to hammer out the exact nature of my duties in the 9th, and my pay. Some people hire lawyers for this sort of thing, or at least an intelligent clerk, but when you're the daughter of international diplomats assigned to missions that require "utmost secrecy" you do such things yourself. Goody. Seven o'clock can't come soon enough.


	4. El Viaje Oficialmente

Hisagi stood beneath the spreading branches of the cherry tree that was planted outside of the 9th's headquarters, and waited for Liaison Alejandria Castillo. It was almost seven, and the night was softly falling. He didn't hear her approach, despite those boots she wore.

"Good evening Captain Hisagi," she walked into the light cast by the lamps in the street.

"Hello… uh, Miss Castillo," he replied, wondering if she had a title, or a rank. Normally, he'd treat her like any other recruit fresh out of the academy, but technically, she was also a diplomat so that complicated things.

"It's not necessary for you to be so formal with me," she said, "You do know that you outrank me, right?"

"Yeah, well, that's one of the things we need to discuss…" Hisagi responded sheepishly, "I've never had a liaison officer before, what is it exactly that you do?"

Alejandria looked at him curiously. "You've never been briefed on international relations between our governments before?"

"Well… no, not really," Hisagi wasn't sure if he was supposed to tell people that. "I've only recently become a captain, and normal operations were kind of suspended, because of the war…"

For a moment, he saw a look of surprise on Alejandria's face. "Well, basically, the Spanish soul society hasn't been around for as long as you guys have been, so when Japan agreed to start negotiations on a trade agreement with the Spanish crown, they wangled a deal that I could come and act as a liaison between the two militaries. I'm here to observe the way you run things, and bring back systems that work to Spain. While I'm here, I'll act as any other officer, but obviously, I can't be promoted or take a permanent place in your daily operations."

"Oh, well, alright then." Hisagi cocked his head to the side, "So you're not a Spanish spy?"

Ever so delicately, the Spanish officer raised one eyebrow. "No."

He clapped her on the shoulder, "Good, because that could have gotten messy." He hooked his thumbs into his belt, "Now then, do you want to see the printing rooms and the office first, or the training grounds?"

"Printing rooms? You have printing rooms?"

"Printing rooms it is." Hisagi held open the door for Alejandria, "So you've never been briefed on Squad specialties before?"

"No." Alejandria inspected the office as she entered. Hisagi felt more confident now that he knew where things stood.

"The 9th squad is well-known for his concentration on the arts. We publish a newspaper called 'The Seireitei Communications' that provides weekly news, cartoons, and specialty columns for the whole seireitei."

Hisagi steered the Spanish girl around several corners and through another door as he spoke, "I'm the Editor-in-Chief, and most of the high-ranking officers are also editors or contribute in some way. We're one of the largest printing facilities in the soul society actually, though we have suffered some losses recently."

He smiled as Alejandria gasped with surprise as she walked through another door, and onto a balcony overlooking a large room filled with printers busily churning out paper.

"You're very lucky. Since today is Thursday we've started production in order to ship out copies on Sunday morning. Tomorrow I'll start on the layout for next week and next week's paper will be finalized by Wednesday, in order to begin printing next Thursday."

The captain was unaware that he sounded like a nerd at a Star Wars convention, happily spilling trivia about his favorite character.

"Impressive," murmured Alejandria, making Hisagi smile delightedly. He motioned for her to follow him back into the office hallway.

"I know you've already seen the office, there's a connection to the training gymnasiums over this way."

Alejandria followed him through the complex as he continued explaining some of the history of the 9th, and the locations of the different parts. She stayed mostly silent, and they didn't meet anyone until they entered one of the training grounds, and saw a small class of young shinigami drilling underneath Hisagi's fourth seat Mao Seki.

"Hello Captain!" he called, as the soul reapers paused momentarily in their training.

"Hey, Mao," Hisagi replied, casting an eye over the motley crew who were taking advantage of the short break.

"Even though everyone has graduated from the Academy, we still have to put some of them through remedial training. They work in five member platoons until they can accept solo missions." He explained quietly to Alejandria. Then he turned his attention to Seki, who had approached after setting the rookies into pairs.

"Good evening," he said, bowing to the captain, and looking curiously at the liaison.

"This is Liaison officer Alejandria Castillo, she's with the Spanish delegation."

Seki bowed shortly, "Welcome to Japan, Officer Castillo."

Hisagi wondered how he had come to terms with Alejandria's appearance so quickly. She had seemed at odds to him, her hair and her eyes were old, yet her face was young.

"Thank you." Alejandria's voice was neutral, "I look forward to working with you."

Seki paused for a moment, and then began filling Hisagi in on the present group of recruits. Hisagi listened attentively, watching the rookies as they sparred with one another; but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alejandria leaning against the wall, another enigmatic smile flickering at the corners of her mouth.

"Um… Captain, if you don't mind me asking…" Seki murmured, casting a glance at Castillo.

"Go ahead," Hisagi could tell that his subordinate wasn't looking forward to having the Spanish officer within their midst.

"What will she even be doing? I mean," he went on hurriedly, "Not that we can't use her experience, but…"

Hisagi clapped his fourth seat on the shoulder to reassure him. "I'll think of something."

After leaving the training grounds, Hisagi took Alejandria to the butterfly menagerie, where the ninth kept the Seireitei's population of hell-butterflies when they weren't in use. Though her face remained politely stony, Hisagi had the feeling that she enjoyed the large glass conservatory with its winding and lacy metal walkways, and the multitudes of plants for the butterflies to roost in. Not to mention the swarms of charcoal black insects that floated lightly throughout the space. In Spain, the officer informed him, the "sociedad des almas" used hell-mice for messages.

After a quick tour of the office, her orientation was complete. However, the Spanish girl lingered beneath branches of the cherry tree outside of the division. Its leaves were falling with the onset of autumn, but she seemed to like their fiery hue anyway. In one quick, fluid motion, she drew the thin blade at her side and sliced through a couple of small branches. She had already sheathed her sword by the time they fell into her hands. Hisagi was impressed; she seemed far more comfortable with her weapon than the average rookie. Every student mastered the basics of kendo before being drafted into different divisions, but few reached an instinctive union between wielder and blade by the time they graduated. Either Alejandria Castillo was a natural warrior, or she had had an extremely good teacher. The ninth captain locked the office, and then plucked one of the girl's branches as he strolled past her.

"Stealing squad property already, are we?" he teased. The branch had been cleanly cut, attesting to Alejandria's skill. "I might have to court martial you."

"I have diplomatic immunity," Alejandria said off-handedly as she took her sprig of leaves back.

"Maybe," he replied wickedly, "But I can always give you more paperwork."

She was silent for a second before remarking, "A fate worse than death." He would have considered it a joke except for the fact that she said it so seriously.

Then she looked at him sidelong, hesitated, and handed him a yellow sticky note.

"If you don't mind, I can't find my apartment… if you could direct to me to this address, I'd be grateful."

The captain accepted the sticky note, it read: 351 Green House Sakura drive, 1052

"You're lucky," he said, "This is near where all of the high ranking officers live, so I know where it is."

"Thank you," Alejandria let him keep the sticky note.

"No problem," Hisagi let his feet take him on his normal route home; her address was very near his. His gaze strayed to the sword belted around her hips, as they walked.

"What kind of zanpakto is that, anyway?" he inquired conversationally.

"In her unreleased form, she takes the shape of an _espada ropera_," Alejandria answered, resting her hand on its hilt, "It's an early form of the rapier used in fencing." She drew her blade with the same easy motion as earlier, "The blade itself is slightly thicker than the rapier, and the hilt is not as ornate."

"Really?" Hisagi raised an eyebrow, "That hilt looks pretty fancy to me."

Her blade had a spiraling cross-guard in place of the Japanese tsuba, one curl of metal extended down towards the pommel to protect the hand. It resembled a lick of metal flame.

"I've seen dress swords in Spain that are much more extravagant." She said, sheathing her sword, "Too much laciness in the guard can cause two swords to get stuck on one another, so I prefer a simpler style myself."

"How do you fight with such a thin blade?" While the katana was smaller than the English broadsword, it was still heavy enough to deal a significant blow- Hisagi couldn't see a thin sword like the rapier to be of much use when fighting monsters.

"As you know, a zanpakto's strength relies on its wielder, so the shape of the blade has no relation to strength. While an espada ropera is not suitable for heavy combat in reality because of its lightness, as a zanpakto it's perfectly suitable."

"Oh, well that makes sense." By now, Hisagi had led them to a short lane with rows of small buildings.

"I've had to explain myself several times to the shinigami of your establishment." Her voice was dry. Alejandria then cocked her head towards a small house that, even in the falling twilight, was violently green. "I suspect this is it."

He squinted and checked the number on the gate, "Yup, its No. 351."

"It looks like a nice house."

Alejandria, he was sure, was appreciating the large trees shading the small plot; she seemed to be a plant person.

"I'm positively _green_ with envy." His wit earned him a sharp look from the liaison officer

"Avocado?"

"Come again?"

"Are you _avocado_ green, or simply emerald?"

Hisagi was nonplussed, "Uh…"

For the first time, her face showed a fleeting expression of annoyance. "It is nothing."

"Okay…"

Suddenly, Alejandria stopped short. And then, wonder of wonders, as Hisagi reflected wryly, she groaned out loud.


	5. Meditaciones Sobre El Capitan

I looked away as my sad lapse into humor fell flatter than a pancake. I wanted to escape into the dubious shelter of my new quarters. But then these thoughts were shaken from my mind as I saw the trunks piled in the doorway. I couldn't help it, I groaned out loud.

Captain Hisagi chuckled behind me. "I see you've got quite the luggage collection there…"

I sigh, "One would think that after one hundred and seventeen years my mother would let me pack for myself."

I only absently note his silence after this. I am lost in my exasperation. None of this is even my stuff: I packed, myself, two trunks with everything I would need. The rest of it is all of the gifts that diplomats and aristocracy give one another to make points about heaven-knows-what and then promptly discard on anyone not present to protest such charity. Oh, did the Mascarpones give us another hideous tea set? Allie likes tea, she can have it. Dear, did the Imbrulias give us more outdated dresses? Allie needs to feminize her wardrobe, she'll never get married if all she wears is fatigues…. Yet they wonder why I wear fatigues when everything else I own is covered in frills, or polka-dots. It is only when Captain Hisagi snickers behind me that I realize I have said all of this out loud.

I can't look him in the face. This is why I don't talk to people.

"Well, it's nice to know that you have feelings," Captain Hisagi says wickedly.

. "Of course I have feelings." Some of them aren't even mine.

"I was starting to think you were a robot." He moves to stand behind me; I can tell he is rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "You're a little older than I thought you were."

"It is not wise to comment on a woman's age, Captain." I reply, carefully staying neutral.

"It's just that, I know you graduated from the Spanish academy last year, so I assumed…"

"You assumed what?" Now I am genuinely curious, almost everyone I meet looks at my hair and treats me like an old maid.

"Just that you were closer to say… seventy, eighty… I figured you were unlucky enough to get the gene for gray hairs early."

There is a gene, formally called PR405, which causes a soul's hair or a different feature to age at a human rate, instead of the slower pace of a soul's life. This gene does not run in my family, but I leave people to think that it does. I don't like to talk about the real reason for my hair color; it lies in a painful part of my past. "Most people think that I'm old."

He nods, "Yeah well, I'm not most people. You don't look old to me."

I kick the dress trunk halfheartedly as I pick up the key on the doormat. "I feel old."

As I open the door, I hear him say it, and it strikes me as though he truly cares, he seems kind. "Why?"

I sigh and turn around. His face is curious, but it is not the sneaking curiosity I am accustomed to. He has picked up a box to help me put everything inside. I feel a familiar resentment that I can't let this man into my life, that he cannot be my friend because my friends hurt me, and I hurt them back.

I settle for a chilly: "You needn't concern yourself."

He is insulted because I am shutting him out.

"That's fine, I guess." The Captain walks through the open door with the box, surprising me. "You look like you'll need help with these trunks."

"I… thank you."

"No problem." He returns for another trunk, I pick up a box that, by the sound of it, contains pottery. We quickly moved everything to the living room. I was grateful for his help, I am by no means weak, but it would have taken twice as long without the good captain. He dusts off his hands as he walks out onto the small front porch. I follow and lean against the door frame.

"Thank you for helping me this evening."

He shrugs, "It's no trouble. My quarters are one block over, house No. 265, if you need anything."

"Thanks," I debate whether to smile or not, and decide against it. "Good night."

Captain Hisagi waves as he leaves me, "Good night, Castillo."

I return to my new home. The lights in the small living room had flickered at first, but they shone steadily now. The kitchen is directly across from the door, it has a full range, for which I am grateful. The cupboards need a new coat of paint- everything needs cleaning, and possibly a coat of paint as well. There is a small pantry, an old dusty fireplace in the corner, and- I walk quickly through the rest of the house- one bedroom and one bath. A pull-down ladder in the ceiling of the bedroom leads to a crawlspace in the attic. An old furnace is tucked next to the washer/dryer and linen closet.

I flop onto the futon in the bedroom, I should probably inspect the size of my closet, but I don't want to stand up and walk over to it. It has been a long day. I resolve to figure out everything in the morning, and haul myself back to the living room to rummage around for sheets and some pajamas. In the morning I'll do paperwork, in the morning I'll start training with the ninth, in the morning…

…

The light from the sunrise wakes me up instead of my mother's voice, or the highly dented alarm clock stowed somewhere in my things. For a second, I panic, expecting that I have slept too late, but it is still September and so the sun rises before seven o'clock. There is a little butterfly waiting for me in the kitchen, it hovers over the sink. I hold out my hand and it alights without hesitation and tells me its news. My presence is expected in the 1st again today, at three in the afternoon, it also informed me that I was expected to begin work at the 9th at eight o'clock that morning. I asked the butterfly what time it was, and in a whispery little voice he told me that it was currently six-oh-five. I like the hell-butterflies here: they are so cute and delicate. I ask him if he wants to stay for some tea, and he politely declines. Then, in the same small voice, he asks how it is that I can speak to him. I answer that it is my zanpakto that allows me. But really, if the butterflies shouted louder, anyone could hear them. He bids me farewell, and I let him out the window.

I sit down at the table halfway between the kitchen and the living room- there is a thick stack of protocols for me to read.

"Emergency Protocols in Case of Procedural Abnormalities, revised edition 103," I read from the stack of paper on the mahogany surface,

"Should the Seireitei, for any reason, be disrupted by a malignant outside source, including but not restricted to: Hollows, hollow possessed personnel, dispossessed personnel, rebel groups, protest groups, militant uprising, gang activity, abnormal spiritual plane creatures, destructive releases of spiritual energy, and in general any threat to normal procedures, you are to consult the following crisis codes and take the necessary and proper course of action for a safe and expedient return to natural activity."

"Hmm… fascinating," I said, flipping the page. The inside of the tome was a list of color specific emergencies and one or two bullet-points of advice. I resolved to read the entire thing as soon as I had made myself a cup of tea, which I conveniently had to locate and unpack, such a shame, I could have been reading protocols…

I set about finding my latest tea set amidst some of the other kitchen appliances I had brought with me. It was ceramic, muddy brown, and very, very "Avant-garde". So avant-garde in fact, that it looked like a small lumpy troll, with an imaginatively drooping spout and handle. As I boiled water and located some teabags, I kept thinking back to Captain Hisagi. He looked so… young, and yet he was also old. I certainly hadn't expected him to be so approachable. I had been able to feel his reiatsu as soon as I stepped in the building, but as strong as his spiritual pressure was, his face was open in a way that I didn't see very often. I couldn't read him with my powers at all; he was too far above me in strength and training- I'd have to physically touch him to get a sense of how he was feeling. Even though it was a relief to be in his presence and not have to shut out his emotions, I felt strangely vulnerable having to rely on such mundane things as body language and tone of voice to gauge people. I had lived for so long seeing into other people's lives effortlessly, Captain Hisagi was like a blank spot in my vision, a sudden silent space that was sort of unnerving.

The kettle whistled mightily, and woke me from my reverie with its high-pitched scream. I poured the water into the pot and watched it swirl for a moment. Then I read through the protocols until seven, and then tried to figure out how to wear my new uniform. Two different layers as far as the shirt part went, and those odd pants, and the socks… While I grew up appreciating the Japanese culture, wearing its clothes will be a difficult adjustment.

…

The office is busy today as I step inside. There are a few empty desks, but the little wire inboxes are slowly filling with files and I feel sorry for their owners. Different shinigami bustle back and forth between small tubes on the far wall, shuttling physical documents into inboxes to be read and catalogued, or in some cases, sent to different units. The ghost office I had seen earlier was now a thriving communications center. Butterflies drift through the air above my head, resting on any available surface. I imagine that there must be junior soul reapers somewhere with the duty of corralling all of them. There are rooms opening off of this main office that are filled with cubicles, during my tour, the captain had explained how they each took responsibility for a different section of the rukongai. As the seireitei security force, the ninth also acted as the primary police force, something that generated a lot of paperwork. The Captain handled all sensitive documents himself, which explained the purple marks under his eyes. Down the hallway I know that there are rooms for briefing and debriefing shinigami on missions, and where special gear is kept in case of riots and such things. The ninth seems to have an awful lot of responsibility, though their operations do not extend to the mortal realms like other squads.

"Hey you!" someone snaps at me, I turn around and face a small squat fellow with a ruddy face. His mustache bristles at me as though I have already done something wrong. "Are you Castillo?"

"Yes, that's me."

"Good! Sylvia's out for today, so you're on tubes."

"What?" I look at the tube system with trepidation, it seems incredibly complicated.

"The tubes, girl!" he begins to trundle over to the wall, "Gawd, I say what I mean, and I mean what I say!"

"Wh- um… okay," My etiquette classes in boarding school did not prepare me for short busy men with affronted mustaches.

"Martha!" he barks at small woman with purple hair. "Show the rookie what's what!"

"Yes, sir!" she piped quickly, and the man (who now resembled a beet) waddled off to harass more people.

"Hi, I'm Martha," she bows politely, and smiles at me.

I smile back, just a bit. "Alejandria Castillo."

"Wow, cool name!" she beams, leading me over to the leftmost tubes. "Have you heard about the liaison officer? Rumor is that she's going to be working here. I'm sure you guys will hit off, being Spanish and all…"

I'm not sure how to approach this situation. "I happen to be the Spanish Liaison officer… Martha."

She blushes, "Oh, really? I'm sorry, it's just you're wearing the uniform, and…"

"It's fine," I cut her off, "I'm expected to work as a normal soul reaper, so please, explain these tubes to me."

"Well, okay," she looks at me nervously, and runs a hand through her violet locks. "The left side is the incoming tubes, we get documents from the other squads through those. Then, if they need to be rerouted, we transfer the containers to the right side."

"Interesting, how does it work?" I haven't seen tubes anywhere else.

"It's kido powered," Martha explains, "each of the squads has an incoming and outgoing receptacle with a kido spell inside. As soon as the containers breach the barrier, they're transported to the tubes in front of us."

"Oh, I see." I glance over at the outgoing tubes; there must be different keys for each squad.

"So, our job, as the tube managers, is to take the containers that come in through these tubes," she points in front of us, "And either put them into the right inbox, or transfer them to the correct destination in another squad."

"How can you tell which inbox or squad it's supposed to go to?"

She relaxes as we continue to speak about work. "It's written on the containers, there are different levels of classification and that decides which inbox is most suitable. All of the red classification codes go to the captain, blues in a different box, greens in another and so on. It's all color coded."

We have to dodge another body as they duck from one of the tubes and scurry over to one on the far right, and then back. The whole operation is like an elaborate dance, as the tube managers weave back and forth. Sometimes they would hand tubes off, and sometimes they would throw them, but mostly they ran back and forth.

Martha directed me to a tube in between two small hapless looking recruits. One of them, a weedy boy with freckles, and the other, a tall girl with long brown hair, sat waiting expectantly for the tubes to ding and spit out cylinders. They barely looked at me as I took my place next to them.

"Hi, I'm Albert." Said the boy, bowing towards me,

"I'm Suki." The girl added shortly, before rushing off as a container landed in her hands.

"Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it quickly," Albert said kindly while we waited.

"How long do we have to do this?"

"We get a break at lunch."

"No, I mean, when do we get to kill things?" again, I'm not a morning person. The work day starts, per standard protocol, at seven each morning. If I'm to be waking up at five in the morning, I want to decapitate something regularly.

"Uh… once you score high enough on the combat section of a performance evaluation, I guess…" Albert shrugged, "If they stuck you in this job, that'll probably be a year or so of extra training."

In the middle of resolving to talk to the Captain about this, I heard a ding. Then a small box shot out of the tube and nearly hit me in the face. It had a bright blue tag on it. Hurriedly, I looked around and spotted the inbox filled with blue capsules. Suddenly possessed by the fear that I would miss something if I spent too long a time away from my station, I quickly put the box into the inbox and weaved as fast as I could through the other similarly minded tube operators.

Almost as soon as I got back, the tube dings again. I spy a small brass bell attached above the vent that spits out a rolled document. Off I go again, on my way to the red inbox. From there, the stream doesn't let up until, two hours later, someone taps me on the shoulder. I look over and Martha smiles cheerfully,

"The captain would like to see you now."

Some of my tubular companions mutter enviously.

"Good." I answer, "We have some things to discuss."


	6. Calculo de Rendimiento y Batalla Primero

Hisagi looks up as a familiar Spanish officer steps into his office. After closing the door to mute the sounds of the outside, she once again foregoes the chair in front of him, and leans against the opposite desk. He wonders if it is hard to sit in chairs with a rapier belted one's waist, or rather, he amends himself, an _espada ropera._

"How are you enjoying your first day as a member of the ninth?" he asks.

When she answers her voice is measured, but blunt. "You put me to working the tubes. It's boring and stressful at the same time."

He chuckles, remembering his very short dint at that particular job. "It's rather thankless, isn't it?"

"I want to decapitate something."

Hisagi is able to detect an amount of terseness in her tone; it seems that boredom has broken the ever present mask of Alejandria Castillo.

"Then I am going to make your day," he says, tapping her file where it lays on his desk, "A mission has just come in; it should be about right for testing your skills."

"I look forward to it," she says, a glint in her eye, "but I do have one request."

"Go for it," Hisagi can't think of what it could possibly be, she wasn't the type to ask for help, as he had noted the other night, she had too much pride as whatever nobility she was.

"I'd like to stop by my house and change into my boots."

"Already in need of a wardrobe change, are we, Castillo?" he grins. The captain of the ninth doesn't ordinarily tease new subordinates, but there is something about Alejandria that makes him want to joke around, to see if he can make her react. "This isn't a soiree, you know."

"I refuse to fight monsters in socks and flip flops." She shakes her foot and he can hear the sandal flapping back and forth. He assumes she didn't tie them tightly enough. "It'll only take a minute." She adds.

"Alright, but make it quick, Castillo, I'll meet you at the south gate." She is already leaving by the time the words leave his mouth. He chuckles and gathers up her file and a clipboard. Despite her aloofness, he can tell that his newest ensign is as excited for the mission as any rookie.

…

This time he hears the clack of her heels against the street as he waits for her near the gate. Jidanbo has already opened it for him, but he plans on waiting for Alejandria to lead the way, to test how well she can flash-step.

"Where exactly did you say the hollows were located?" she asks once she stands across from him. The shahakso is tucked into her boots. Athletic tape is wrapped around her knuckles.

"One of the minor districts," He answers, "it's to the south-west of here, I'd like you to find them for me."

"Sure," strangely, she walks through the gate while drawing her blade. Hisagi follows, poised to make notes on his clipboard. Once outside, Alejandria suddenly spins and raps the flat of her blade on the exterior of the wall. It produces a clear bell-like note that sends a small shiver down Hisagi's spine, it echoes for a moment then dies away. He is about to ask why she just struck an inanimate object when he catches the look on her face. Her eyes are closed, and she tilts her head slightly as she listens. A small furrow of concentration wrinkles the skin between her eyebrows.

Then she opens her eyes, "They've moved," she says, sheathing her blade, "They're directly to the south, near the edge of the city."

"How do you know?"

"One of my zanpakto's abilities." She explains, "Hollows send back a different echo than normal souls."

He marks it in her file, "Lead the way then."

"Follow closely, "she says, on the brink of an order. Then a hint of a challenge enters her voice, "Do try to keep up."

Hisagi is about to laugh it off, to tease her for being cocky when she disappears- only to materialize on a rooftop several blocks away. She waves impatiently. Pleased, Hisgai flash-steps after her, sticking to her heels as she careens through the city; for a rookie, her speed is incredible. Given training, he muses, she could keep up with lieutenant class Soul Reapers, even with her lack of experience.

He hears the hollow roaring a second before they decelerate and land on a rooftop just above the monster. It is large for a weak hollow, four legs support its serpentine body, and numerous tentacles sprout from its back. Its head is a misshapen mask filled with jagged teeth, black drool oozes from between its fangs and drips onto the ground.

"Walk me through your strategy," Hisagi asks as Alejandria quietly readies her rapier.

"It's pretty basic," she answers, "Usually, I try to sneak around, and kill it before it realizes that I'm there. But this hollow is a little too strong for that to work smoothly, it might sense me and wait until I can't run to attack, or those tentacles might be able to feel vibrations, that kind of thing."

The hollow bats playfully at the side of a building, a woman screams inside.

"So how will you attack it now?" prompts Hisagi, he likes how methodical the Spanish liaison is, in the past most of the newbies had rushed headlong into battle, and nearly gotten hurt.

"In order to be sure of its next move…" she says slowly, "I have to get into its head, and the best way to do that is," she hesitates, and then stands, "To make sure it knows I'm here."

Hisagi is taken aback as a cold and calculated killing intent kicks him in the gut. It intensifies, cloaking Alejandria in a murderous aura until the hollow leaves off destroying the building, and turns to receive her attack. Hisagi's hopes sink as she suddenly leaps off of the roof.

She hangs for a second in the air, before she flash-steps towards the gaping maw of the hollow. Her sword catches the noon-day sunshine and throws it back in a spray of light as she slashes across the hollow's defensive tentacles. The rubbery ends of the appendages squelch as they hit the ground. She is still falling, past its claws until her blade drives home through its mask. In the next instant she jumps from its body as the hollow disintegrates into ash. One lock of hair has escaped her braid as she joins Hisagi on the rooftop; she pushes it back, the gesture at odds with the killing energy that still glimmers in her wake.

"Satisfied?" she asks. There is a fire in her eyes that she cannot extinguish, though she lets go of her killing intent, her spiritual pressure quickly folding back into itself until Hisagi no longer feels it.

"You're an idiot." He snarls, "You could have gotten yourself killed!"

"That wasn't going to happen, I know my limits." Alejandria retorts, "Contrary to your assumptions, this isn't my first kill."

"Of course not," Hisagi relents, "but still, that kind of forward attack left you wide open."

"That hollow was far too slow to score a hit on me," she argues, "I would have seen it coming a mile away."

"It's _your_ neck on the line," the captain mutters, "Anyway, you did well."

"It would have been hard not to," she says dismissively, "I would appreciate a more apt test."

"Oh, really?" Hisagi sighs, "You'll have to wait until-"

He is interrupted by the flash of something orange out of the corner of his eye. He turns, and a ghost has joined them on the rooftop. The former captain of the ninth, Kaname Tousen stands at the corner, in full uniform, an orange scarf rippling in the breeze.


End file.
